Giving Up
by Lana Coombe
Summary: Written for a challenge and, yes, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is one of my all time favourite films!


The ping of yet another ricocheting bullet caused Kid Curry to duck even lower beneath the window frame. Pressing his back against the wall, he looked across at his partner, who crouched below one of the other windows of the cabin in which they had taken refuge. The dark intensity of Heyes' eyes told the Kid he was thinking hard – real hard.

"How many?" he asked.

"Too many to count."

"Too many then?" Heyes countered.

The Kid responded with a tight-lipped grimace. Checking the chamber of his Colt, he slipped two bullets into the empty slots before clicking it closed.

"What we gonna do, Heyes?"

For a few moments there was no response. Heyes merely looked down at the gun he held loosely in his hand. Then he inhaled deeply and raised dark, solemn eyes to look at his partner.

"Think you know the answer already, Kid," he stated sombrely.

The Kid closed his eyes, coming to terms with the reality of the moment, swallowing down his disappointment.

**"This is Sheriff Noble. We know you're in there, Heyes. We got the place surrounded."**

The Kid's head snapped up at the shouted words. He turned and knelt below the window and began to raise his gun.

"No!" Heyes' didn't mean it to sound so sharp.

Narrowing his eyes, the Kid shot him a questioning look.

"If we shoot one of them we don't stand a chance. If we go out there and give ourselves up we might get lucky." Heyes was trying to convince himself as much as his own partner.

"Heyes, if we go out there they're gonna shoot us anyway. Wanted poster says 'Dead or Alive' in case you hadn't noticed," he replied sardonically.

"There's a chance …"

"A_ chance_?! I call it an almost dead certainty – dead being the word."

"I don't see we got much of an option. They've got us surrounded and out numbered. Not sure I can talk us out of this one, Kid."

He looked apologetically across at his friend before continuing.

"If we turn ourselves in peaceably then maybe the Governor will come good on our agreement. It's been over a year – nearly two."

"Don't you think I know that?" The Kid's words were laced with frustration. "That's a mighty big 'if'. And what _if_ we end up in prison for the next twenty years?"

For once Heyes couldn't find the words to answer his friend. Instead he swiped his black hat from his head and slapped it on the floor. "Damn!"

"I was so sure we'd lost them," the Kid commented quietly.

"Must be losing our touch," Heyes responded, rubbing his face with his hands. "Besides, you weren't sure, were you? Not really."

The Kid chose to ignore the comment. Saying 'I told you so' wouldn't help matters now.

**"You've got one minute and then we're gonna start shootin'."**

The Kid cast a searching eye about the cabin. It was a simple structure, with a door and two windows at the front. To the back was just one window but no door.

The cabin had offered some sanctuary from the driving rain, which had seemed to chase them almost as fervently as the posse, who had doggedly been on their heels for the last couple of days. They had traversed the country, crossing rivers, back-tracking, wiping tracks and using every trick in the book to evade their pursuers. Heyes was convinced they had lost them but the Kid was more dubious but his partner had been persuasive. Long hours in the saddle, without food, had left them exhausted and the persistent rain had left them cold and wet, so, on seeing the cabin, their need for respite had over shadowed their judgement.

They managed to almost dry out their clothes, get to chew down on some hard tack and had just closed their eyes when the first shot rang out.

And now they were well and truly trapped.

"So, this is it, is it?" the Kid said flatly.

Heyes looked across at him remorsefully. "I'm sorry, Kid."

"Hell, I thought we'd lost them too, Heyes."

Heyes cast another sad look in the Kid's direction. "I don't mean for that. For everything. If I hadn't had such a chip on my shoulder and been so angry at the world I never would have dragged you into stealing and …"

"You didn't drag me," the Kid shot back. "I followed - willingly. We've been over this before. We both did what we did. Partners, right?"

"Together we stand and together ..." Heyes fixed his gaze on his partner and best friend as he quoted the words.

** "Time's up. Put down your guns and come out with your hands up."**

"We fall," the Kid finished, as he got to his feet and caressed the gun he held in his hand, running his thumb across the cool, hard surface, before slipping it slowly back into the holster.

"Let's hope Sheriff Noble lives up to his name," Heyes muttered dryly.

Picking up his battered, black hat from the floor, he patted the dust from its faded surface and placed it back on his head, positioning it deliberately, with the brim low over his eyes.

With one last meaningful look between them, both started to unbuckle their gun belts in unison and laid them purposefully on a battered table. The Kid took one last look at his weapon and then turned to Heyes and clasped his shoulder. There was so much to be said but the words just couldn't be found. Instead the partners communicated in their usual silent way, saying all that need to be said with an non verbal exchange.

With a deep breath Heyes lifted the latch on the cabin door, paused a second, yanked it open and put his hands in the air. The Kid followed, stepping out into the cool of the evening air behind his partner. They were met with the audible click of several rifles being cocked and pointed in their direction.

**"Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, you're under arrest."**


End file.
